


A Comfortable Silence

by flecksofpoppy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Gen, springles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:38:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2593838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flecksofpoppy/pseuds/flecksofpoppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"True friendship comes when silence between two people is comfortable." (David Tyson Gentry)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SizzleShorts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SizzleShorts/gifts).



> Okay, first chapter complete! :D
> 
> This is written as a commish for the lovely sizzleshorts! Thank you so much. It's the perfect excuse to _finally_ get around to writing some Springles... the adorable dorks.  <3 I hope you like it!

It’s the first day of classes on the first day of college, and Sasha’s already late.

It all started that morning. She’d gotten up early, nervous but determined to make a good impression on her first day, wearing a comfortable sweatshirt with the university insignia on it and hair neatly pulled up away from her face.

She’d gotten off to such a good start, only to be foiled by missing out on the most important meal of the day: breakfast.

Food reminds her of family, and every morning throughout high school—even on weekdays—her father would make a full breakfast. They’d all sit down together to eat a veritable feast of perfectly cooked eggs, succulent bacon, hickory-smoked sausage, and the delicious, pulpy orange juice that she loves.

During move-in day and orientation weekend, her family had come, and they were all delighted to find that the communal dining hall where all the freshman ate had an amazing breakfast buffet.

Sasha had felt reassured after eating there—one last breakfast before saying goodbye where her mother pretended not to tear up—and then it was time to face the real world as an adult, with her own responsibilities.

Only, apparently, this was a cruel farce to make families think they were paying money for decent food, when in reality, the evil college conglomerate is implementing an evil master plan to deny students sustenance and food that tastes like something besides rubber. (At least, this is what Sasha ultimately concluded after being faced with a selection of stale muffins and instant coffee the day after her parents left.)

And now, she’s running to class with a takeout bag shoved in her messenger bag alongside her textbook and notepad, ready to cry over the fact that she hasn’t had time to take a single bite of her bacon, egg, and cheese on an English muffin. 

A small consolation is that she’s now aware of the food truck that remains at the edge of campus.

Missing meals is possibly the worst thing she can imagine; she’s already homesick enough, and it’s only been a few days.

She finally reaches the natural sciences building after sprinting for two minutes solid, bursting through the double doors and into the hallway, looking around wildly.

It’s 9:02 a.m. and class started at 8:50 a.m. She hopes the professor isn’t difficult and won’t just kick her out. College is a big commitment, and she doesn’t want to let her family down.

There’s a long hallway in front of her flanked by two stairways on either side. Her first class is in room 104, but there’s no directional signs at the bottom of the stairwells. She pauses, and decides to take a wild guess, charging straight down the hallway, hoping that “104” means the ground floor, and not the first floor.

Her warm leather boots thump against the floor, and she can tell her hair is slowly making its way out of the neat ponytail she’d started the day with, when she sees room 104.

She bursts through the doors which groan with a loud, metallic shriek, and as she practically tumbles through the doorway, everyone turns in surprise to stare.

It’s a huge lecture hall, and there are at least fifty students who are all currently gaping at her with wide eyes.

“Name?” someone barks from the lectern at the center of the room, and much to her dismay, she sees a shadowy, dyspeptic looking man standing there.

“Braus!” she squeaks, resisting the urge to salute.

She feels like she’s going to cry as a heavy silence descends upon the room. It goes on for a full thirty seconds as the professor just stares at her blankly, until unexpectedly, a voice cuts through.

“Hey! Oh, uh, you’re here!” 

She turns sharply in surprise, trying not to let her lip wobble as she catches sight of a guy with a shaved head she’s never seen. He’s waving at her, though, as if they’re friends.

She blinks, not knowing what to say, but he continues.

“Sorry, Professor Shadis,” he exclaims, motioning Sasha over quickly with a jerk of his head, “I forgot to tell you before! Uh...” his eyes flick down to something on the table, and then back up, “Sasha told me she’d be late. It’s my fault!” 

Then, he stands rigidly straight, staring slightly to the left of the professor’s heavy, unforgiving gaze.

“Is that so?” Professor Shadis asks.

Sasha just stands there like a deer in headlights, but then she nods vigorously and charges down the aisle two steps at a time to plunk down in the empty seat next to the mystery guy who’s taken pity on her. 

To her absolute relief, Shadis seems to let it go as he grunts and turns around.

They both just sit there with wide eyes, unmoving as he starts to drone about the natural sciences.

Sasha’s still catching her breath, but just as she feels a sense of relief slowly coming over her, Shadis stops again to glare at the class.

“ _Who_ has dared bring food into my classroom?” he snaps in a growl, sniffing the air like a wolf out for blood.

The same guy who helped her out before darts a look over at Sasha, and suddenly, she remembers the breakfast sandwich that’s currently shoved at the bottom of her bag. She looks over at him out of the corner of her eye in terror, but he just shakes his head slightly, as if telling her not to admit it.

She gives a subtle nod and then stares pointedly down at the desk, hoping with all her might that Shadis doesn’t address her again.

Trying to find something to focus on and not look guilty, she looks at a stray paper that’s on the desk. She blinks in surprise as she sees two names, then finally realizes what happened.

To her right, the guy—whose name is apparently Connie Springer—has been assigned as her lab partner for the semester. He’d gotten her name from the sheet and saved her.

Her eyebrows raise; she thinks that was awfully nice of him. Most people wouldn’t go out of their way to help a person out they’d never even met.

She sneaks a look at him curiously, but he’s staring straight ahead, obviously trying not to look petrified or guilty.

When no one owns up to the smell of food after a few moments, Shadis heaves a disgusted sigh and turns toward the whiteboard to discuss the overall curriculum for the semester.

Sasha waits for five minutes before quietly and nonchalantly pulling out her notebook and a pen, and opening to a blank page.

She nudges Connie’s foot slightly, and he looks at her in surprise, his eyes already glazed over from Shadis’s droning.

On the blank page, she writes: _Thanks!_ She smiles a little, feeling shy suddenly since it really was pretty nice, considering she’s a stranger; he smiles back and nods.

Sneaking a glance up at Shadis, he picks up his own pen and tugs the notebook a few inches toward him. 

_No prob. This guy’s a doucshe!!!_ He grins at her, and she snorts slightly.

They both sit up practically at attention as soon as she makes the incriminating sound, staring straight ahead toward the front of the classroom. Luckily enough, it apparently goes unnoticed as Shadis answers a question from a nervous student in the front row.

They both slowly relax, and Sasha’s eyebrows raise as Connie starts to write again, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

 _No offense... but you looked kinda scared._ He draws a little sad face next to it, which earns another slight grin from Sasha, and she shrugs.

_Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!_

This time, Connie laughs under his breath, and then bites his lip at the sound of ten people turning in their seats to stare.

“Is there something amusing, Mr. Springer?”

“No!” Connie practically squeaks, sitting up very straight in his chair. “Just, uh... taking notes!”

Shadis looks back and forth between the two of them suspiciously, and Sasha puts on her best innocent face. (Which, she’s been told, is actually rather effective.)

His stare is unwavering from the impressively dark circles under his eyes, and he says, “I _still_ smell food.”

He breaks the glare, and Connie exhales slowly; Sasha doesn’t blame him.

“Until someone confesses to bringing food into my classroom, none of you are allowed to leave,” he says simply.

There’s some outraged murmuring around the classroom— _“Can he do that?” ... “He can’t do that!” ... “Isn’t that illegal?”_ —before Shadis barks out a harsh laugh.

“I can do whatever I want!” he declares. “It’s my classroom, and this class is required as a core. Take it next semester if you want, but you’re wasting your time if you think you can drop this course to pick up a different one. They’re all full.”

There’s more outraged murmuring, but finally, people start to look around traitorously at each other suspiciously, searching for the culprit.

“C’mon, man,” one student whispers, nudging his neighbor, “just admit it!”

The guy in question has a bizarre haircut—blond on top and darker at the bottom—and scowls. “It’s not me! Why the hell do you think it’s me?”

His (apparent) lab partner glowers at him. “It’s definitely you! You look like a criminal!”

“What kind of name is Eren, anyway?” the guy hisses back. “ _That_ sounds criminal.” He gives a snarky, condescending grin and crosses his arms.

“Well, if no one admits it,” comes a different quiet voice, “then he can’t keep all of us here forever, right?”

Sasha turns to see a kid a little taller than Connie with long blond hair tied into a top knot, giving an earnest albeit nervous look.

“Well, who _actually_ has it?” says a deeper voice in a whisper.

Sasha turns further around in her seat to see the owner—he’s a big guy with broad shoulders. He looks like the neighbor boy she used to play basketball with down the street, only after he came back from the Marines. 

A somber looking boy next to him just raises an eyebrow as Sasha looks at him, obviously wondering the same thing, but doesn’t say anything.

“Everyone _be quiet_ ,” Shadis barks.

There’s a shuffling as everyone turns to sit up straighter in their seats and stop talking.

Sasha knows she’s going to have to come clean, because she also can’t afford to be late to her next class. She doesn’t _want_ to be late, either, since it’s a class that’s actually part of her major.

Just as she’s about to raise her hand to confess, though, even as Connie shakes his head “no” vigorously, there’s a sudden chime.

For a moment, everyone freezes in confusion, wondering who’s about to be crucified for their phone going off in the middle of class.

That is, until Shadis scowls at his own pocket and pulls out his phone.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, pointing around the room, “don’t anyone move.”

And with that, he exits out a side door that slams shut behind him, his voice faint as he takes the call.

“Okay, seriously, who has the fucking sandwich?” says the same student who first spoke, only much louder and abrasive this time.

“You’re an asshole, Jean.”

“Shut up, Eren!” The snarky guy apparently named Jean snorts dismissively. “Maybe _you’re_ crazy enough to not care about getting expelled, but I’m not!”

“Guys,” comes a new, calm voice from a bright-eyed student with lots of freckles, “calm down. I’m sure whoever—” 

Sasha fights the urge to cry all over again as she digs her hand resentfully into her bag and pulls out the breakfast sandwich, holding it up like a red flag.

There’s a collective gasp which turns to horror as the they hear the door start to open.

Apparently, though, the door locks from the outside, and they hear Shadis yell out a curse, stamping around to the other set of main doors at the back of the lecture hall.

Sasha freezes, looking back and forth desperately from Connie to the rest of her classmates who’ve been discussing the sandwich scandal.

Suddenly, the sandwich is ripped out of her hand as they all listen to Shadis’s pounding footsteps getting closer and closer.

Connie gives her a determined look, the breakfast sandwich clutched in his hands, before tearing it in half. Then, he eats half in one bite, and shoves the other half toward Sasha’s mouth.

She takes the hint, and tears the paper off to destroy the evidence in two ambitious bites.

And then, it’s completely vanished as Shadis thunders through the door, cursing under his breath as he makes his way to the front of the classroom again.

“Who has it?” he hisses, pointing at all of them, apparently made angrier by whoever called him.

No one says anything.

“All right, no one’s going to confess? Dump your bags.”

The blond kid speaks up again, his voice a little stronger this time. “That’s an illegal search! You don’t have probable cause!”

“First of all,” Shadis says with a rather unsettling smile, “I’m not a police officer, so that doesn’t apply. Second of all, this is a dictatorship...” his voice rises and he yells, “not a democracy!”

Everyone shies back, and finally, dumps their bags onto the desk.

Out of the fifty students in the classroom, Shadis looks like he’s lost his mind at the end of a half-hour search when no sandwich magically appears.

Sasha is almost late for her next class by the time he lets her go, and she only faintly hears Connie’s voice shouting after her: “Hey, wait!”

She turns even as she’s still jogging up the steps and waves at him with a smile, tapping her wrist to indicate the time.

“Okay, see ya Wednesday!” he shouts, waving with a smile in return.

The rest of the day goes much more smoothly, lunch is better than breakfast, and by her last class, Sasha no longer feels quite as homesick.

That, and she made a friend named Connie Springer who saved her ass on her first day.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Connie Springer would like to add you as a friend on Facebook._ **

Sasha sits there staring at her computer with wide eyes—a three year old hand-me-down laptop from her older brother—unsure of how to respond.

“What’s wrong?” comes an impassive voice from across the dorm room.

“Oh,” Sasha replies, blinking in bemusement and swallowing hard, “my lab partner tried to add me on Facebook.”

Sasha turns slightly at the sound of Ymir’s bed creaking as she sits up. “You don’t want to? Why, is he a weirdo?”

“No!” Sasha squeaks, shaking her head in consternation at her roommate. “I’m just surprised. Uh, we just haven’t really talked very much.”

The truth is that they haven’t talked _at all_ since that first day, since usually Sasha shows up at the last minute—too late for chit-chat—and then runs out since she only has a ten minute interval between Shadis’s mind-numbing history class and Intro to English Lit.

In fact, she realizes that they’ve only really ever talked at length passing notes back and forth during class. Although, a few times, she almost got in trouble for laughing.

“How come you’ve never talked?” Ymir asks, hand on her hip with an even, indifferent stare. “Hey, speaking of which, is English your second language or something?”

Sasha’s eyes widen and her face heats. “What?!” she demands in a high-pitched voice. “No! And even if it was, what’s wrong with that?”

Ymir raises an eyebrow and shrugs. “No offense, jumpy. What’s up with the way you talk, though? You sound like you’ve got marbles in your mouth.”

Sasha has learned quickly that her college roommate is anything but tactful. At the same time, there’s something so blunt about Ymir’s approach to conversation that Sasha doesn’t mind her rough-around-the-edges personality. She also seems to have troubles of her own that she never talks about. A few times, Sasha’s heard her on the phone in the hallway late at night, talking in a hushed, intense voice to someone on the other end.

Sasha frowns, crossing her arms over her chest defensively as she turns back around to look at her computer screen, setting her jaw.

Just as she’s debating about adding Connie, though, she jumps as Ymir leans over her shoulder to peer at the screen, apparently uncaring about minor things like personal space. “That’s him?” she asks curiously, pointing Connie’s profile. “Baldie?”

Sasha rolls her eyes a little, but a smile lifts the corner of her mouth. “He’s all right. We pass a lot of notes.”

“Notes, huh?” Ymir replies with a knowing tone. “So, what’s up with the weird accent?” 

Ymir pushes a few of Sasha’s books to the end of the desk to perch on the edge, raising a quizzical eyebrow. She has a plain face smattered with a few freckles, and although there’s something extremely intimidating about her, she’s also reassuringly blunt. 

When Sasha just rolls back a little, cornered, Ymir snorts. “Aren’t you from the mountains south of here?”

“So?” Sasha demands, escaping Ymir’s probing gaze as she stands up to retrieve a text book for a paper due at the end of the week. 

It also gives her an excuse to ignore Connie’s friend request, since for some reason, he makes her a little nervous. It seems strange to hit it off with someone as quickly as they had.

“Are you...” Ymir makes a derisive noise, hopping off the desk and crossing her arms as she advances on Sasha again, “ _faking_ your accent? Trying to talk all _fancy_?”

Sasha clamps her mouth shut, just staring, unsure of how to respond. The fact of the matter is that she’s so embarrassed about her country twang, she’s been trying to hide it since the beginning of the semester. However, she didn’t think it sounded so dramatically different from her real voice.

Finally, she gives up and sighs. “Is it really that bad?”

Ymir starts to laugh, and gives her a firm clap on the shoulder that makes Sasha jump. “Yeah, it is. Stop talking like that. It makes you sound crazy. Big deal—you’re from bumble fuck. Don’t be ashamed of who you are.”

Sasha blinks in a way she knows is owlish (another habit she’s tried to break over the years, since she’s been told it makes her look naive), but then, she actually smiles a little.

“Uh, thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. Actually, it’s pretty pathetic you need someone tell you that.”

Sasha sticks out her bottom lip stubbornly and raises an eyebrow. “Thanks, anyway. So there.”

Ymir starts to laugh, shaking her head as she retreats to her side of the room and throws her long, lean body onto the bed.

“So, Braus,” she says conversationally, “you going to that party tonight?”

“No,” Sasha replies immediately, turning back to look at the pile of text books on the other end of her desk even though she doesn’t know what ‘that party’ even is. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve got school stuff to do,” she replies purposefully, opening the biggest, thickest text book to a marked page, as if trying to convince herself that studying is a _much_ better idea than going to what would be her first college party.

“Twenty bucks says that baldie sent that friend request so he can invite you,” Ymir says without missing a beat. “Now you gotta accept his request to see, or else you owe me twenty bucks by default.”

“What?!” Sasha exclaims, slamming the thick book shut. “That’s not fair!”

Ymir just raises one side of her mouth in a strange cross between a sneer and a grin, and then rolls away to firmly press her head against the pillow. 

“Tough shit—it’s your choice. Otherwise, I’m going into your wallet in the next four months and taking what’s mine.” With that, she pulls out a pair of ear buds and pulls the pillow over her head.

Sasha just stares at Ymir’s back in disbelief before turning back to the computer screen. After a moment, she finally makes a decision, and approves Connie as a Facebook friend. 

Although Sasha never agreed to any bets, she realizes she owes Ymir as an invitation for an on-campus party pops up in her alerts.

There’s also a message from Connie Springer, with a profile picture that shows him in what appears to be some sort of high school drama production: **_hi! thanks for accepting my friend request... so you should come if your not busy. it’ll be fun. :)_**

She just stares at the message, unsure of what to say. It’s not that Sasha doesn’t consider herself a social person, but college has had her nerve-wracked since the first day. Being the first person in her family to attend college, she’s done her best to make the best impression possible on everyone she met, and that includes fellow classmates.

But remaining introverted feels unnatural, and it’s starting to drive her a little over the edge. That, and the subpar “food” she eats for every meal from the dining hall is making her tired. She has to write home again to ask for a care package.

Well, she can’t hide from everyone for four years until graduation, acting like little Miss Perfect.

She bites her lip as she replies to Connie’s message: **Sure! Is it in the dorms?”**

Just as she presses send, though, she sees that the invitation he sent has the address right on it, and she cringes.

She opens the message window again, adding: **_Oh my, I’m sorry! I just spotted the invitation._**

She squints at the address again, though, realizing that it’s not the name of a building or street she recognizes. Their campus is pretty large, but if it’s off campus, there’s no way she’s going to embarrass herself by taking the bus there.

**_Is that off campus?_ **

Squinting again, she repeats the address aloud softly to herself, suddenly realizing that it’s the row houses reserved for fraternities and student organizations at the other end of the campus.

**_wait, is that name of a bldg??/ sorry! nevermind! i got it ok. see u @ 8!!_ **

As she presses send for the last time, her face absolutely burning now, she realizes that the last thing she typed wasn’t exactly grammatically correct.

She groans, folding both arms on the desk and putting her face down with a heavy sigh. Here she is, resolving to be braver about meeting people, and she’s already gone and made a fool of herself, which means that she has to be extra careful tonight.

At least it’s within walking distance.

She sighs, pulling herself up and closing the laptop soundly. Now, all she needs to decide is what to wear and get a snack before she heads out.

After rummaging through her sparse closet, she decides it’s better to play it safe than sorry, and decides to put on a little makeup and trade in her university insignia sweatshirt for a cute dress she got off the clearance rack before she left home. She figures it’s better to be overdressed than the alternative.

Just as she’s in the communal bathroom, leaning over the sink and using the mirror to rim her eyes with a brown pencil her mother had called “tasteful,” she nearly pokes herself in the eye as Ymir comes to lean in the doorway unexpectedly and bark, “Yo!”

“What the hell?!” Sasha gasps, turning to glare at Ymir.

Ymir looks unfazed, raising an eyebrow and walks forward to pluck the pencil out of Sasha’s hand. “Where are you even going? Buckingham Palace?” she asks, looking Sasha up and down in what appears to be genuine curiosity. Her voice echoes against the tiles in the empty bathroom, and Sasha scowls at her, grabbing the pencil back.

“What’s it to you?” she snaps, turning back around sharply and refusing to look at Ymir.

“You’re fucking that up so bad,” Ymir grunts, pulling Sasha around by her shoulder. “C’mon, let me do it.”

Sasha’s eyes widen despite her annoyance, and she eyes Ymir warily. She receives a bored, unreadable glance in return.

“You know how to do makeup?” she finally asks suspiciously. The truth is, though, she rarely wears makeup and she doesn’t want to look like a twelve-year-old who got into her mother’s bathroom cabinet. 

Ymir makes a dismissive _tch_ noise, before seizing the eyeliner back out of Sasha’s hand.

“My girlfriend really likes this shit,” she remarks obliquely. “She’s laid up a lot in bed, so I learned to...” She scowls at Sasha. “Whatever. Let me just do it. Now, look up, and _don’t_ close your eyes.”

Within five minutes, Ymir’s finished, and when Sasha turns to look at herself in the mirror, she’s shocked by what she sees.

“I look really good,” she blurts out, her eyes wide. Somehow, Ymir’s gotten the eyeliner to work the way it’s supposed to, and Sasha actually looks like a grown-up going somewhere.

“Yeah, well,” Ymir grunts, raising an eyebrow as she meets Sasha’s eyes in the mirror, “if you’re gonna learn to do something, you should do it all the way.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Sasha remarks, turning her head slightly to admire her reflection.

“God, if this is going to turn you into some bimbo...” Ymir huffs, making a show out of rolling her eyes and looking put upon as she walks back toward the door.

“Is not!” Sasha squeaks, gathering up her makeup and shoving it in the small bag—also a gift from her mother—as she follows Ymir out the door. “I’m just gonna go to this party for a spell. It’s not like I’ll be hangin’ around or anything.”

“Wow,” Ymir says dryly as they walk back to their shared room, “you don’t sound like the Queen of England with a cold anymore.”

Sasha immediately claps her hand over her mouth and starts to blush, but then takes a deep breath, and lets her hand fall back to her side.

“Well,” she sniffs, turning away from Ymir and trying to retain her dignity, “I just have to work harder on makin’ myself sound less... weird.”

“Braus,” Ymir states definitely, clapping Sasha on the shoulder firmly, “don’t be dumb. And have a good time with Baldie.”

“You’re not coming?” Sasha asks in surprise. She assumed since Ymir already knew about the party, she’d be making an appearance, too. That, and she figured Ymir just knew everyone. In Sasha’s world, people like Ymir—indifferent and too cool for school—always seem to possess that characteristic.

A shadow falls over Ymir’s face and she shrugs. “I’ve got other shit to do. Next time, though, because somebody’s gotta drink those wussy frat boys under the table.”

Sasha feels herself pale. “It’s at a _frat_?” she says in dread.

“Yeah, but don’t worry. It’s not like... a roofie frat,” Ymir reassures her, snorting a little. “It’s more like... you know, ‘let’s do charity work and help with Take Back the Night.’ But I hear they do like kegs.” 

“Am I too over-dressed for a keg party?” Sasha asks worriedly, biting her lip as she looks down at the floral dress she’s wearing with her ballet flats.

“Yeah, definitely,” Ymir replies dryly. “But hey, at least you look hot. You’re gonna be late, so see ya.”

Sasha swears she’s never blushed so hard in her life as she just stares at Ymir’s retreating back. As she lies down on her bed, distracted by something on her phone, she looks over at Sasha.

“What?” she asks, frowning slightly. When Sasha just blinks at her, Ymir rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, Braus, I have a girlfriend. Lighten up.”

Sasha finds her voice, swallowing hard. “Sorry, I’m not used to people, um... telling me, I’m...”

“Keep up the shy damsel in distress act. You’ll have five boyfriends by the end of the night.”

“Hey!” Sasha snaps, pointing at Ymir with a mild frown. “I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”

“Well, if you’re looking for a girlfriend, I know a few available girls,” Ymir props herself up on an elbow with a provocative smirk, tipping an invisible hat at Sasha. “ _M’lady._ ”

“Ymir! Stop sayin’ shit like that, god—”

“I’m fucking with you,” Ymir replies rolling onto her back again, putting a hand behind her head. When Sasha doesn’t banter back at her, she finally looks over. “You look good. Now, if you stop being so wimpy and talk like a normal person, you’ll do fine.”

Sasha sighs; Ymir is hard to read as always, but at least she seems to be serious this time.

“Thanks,” Sasha mutters, turning to pull on her jacket, before sneaking a look over her shoulder at Ymir whose attention is now totally focused on her phone.

Just as she’s about to leave, standing in the doorway and looking at her own phone to find the address again, she looks up at Ymir.

“Hey,” she says, pointing, “thanks for your help.”

Ymir gives her a lazy salute and just nods.

“And by the way,” Sasha says, trying to sound resolute, “I never said I didn’t like _ladies._ So, there!”

And with that, she turns and shuts the door soundly behind her; she can’t help but snort a little as she hears a burst of Ymir’s raucous, unmistakable laughter from behind the door, though.

It gives her a little confidence that she can hold her own, even against someone like Ymir, and she gives a firm nod to cheer herself on as she starts the walk to the frat house.

= = =

Sasha has been standing outside the house party for exactly ten minutes, since she arrived early, overestimating the length of the walk.

There’s loud music pouring from the windows that are open since it’s been an unseasonably but pleasantly warm autumn day. There are a group of people congregating outside with red cups full of what Sasha assumes is beer. She’s been lingering awkwardly on the fringes of the crowd in a position that may put her either as someone at the party, or someone simply waiting for a friend to go somewhere else. 

She swallows hard, checking her phone again to see the time. It reads seven-fifty-seven on the dot. Oh god, the waiting is killing her and—

“Sash!” comes an unexpected voice, shouting from the doorway. “You came!”

She looks up in surprise to see Connie Springer gesturing enthusiastically at her to come closer, and immediately, she feels butterflies in her stomach as she tries to smile.

“Hey!” he says enthusiastically, and then a shadow falls over his face. “Wait, sorry! Is it okay to call you ‘Sash?’” 

Before she can reply, he interjects, “Whoa, sorry, that’s so stupid of me!” He rubs the back of his head self-consciously with wide eyes. “I mean—”

“It is fine,” Sasha says, trying to keep her words to a minimum. She resolved on her way over that she’d either speak as little as possible, or if she did need to talk, she’d try to go above and beyond to speak in a proper manner. Like Ymir said: if you’re going to do something, do it all the way. 

Connie smiles, looking more at ease when he realizes he hasn’t made a social faux pas by calling her by a nickname, and motions for her to follow him inside.

The interior is surprisingly nice considering it’s a frat house, with a full kitchen in the back, a communal living space to the right, and then stairs leading to a second floor which Sasha assumes are shared bedrooms.

“Wow!” Connie exclaims as he walks back toward the kitchen, easing around people. “You look really pretty.”

Sasha almost bumps into him as he stops abruptly and whirls around, looking at her with a deep blush. “Uh, sorry, that sounded creepy.”

She shakes her head, blushing slightly, too, and just shrugs. “Thank you,” she mutters, and then looks at the ground.

Connie turns back around, rubbing the back of his head in a gesture that Sasha’s learning means he’s embarrassed. It’s somehow strangely endearing.

“I’m actually part of the frat,” he explains as he grabs two red plastic cups and pumps the keg, grabbing the hose to fill both cups with beer one-handed.

Sasha’s eyes widen as she accepts one of the cups, and then leans against the counter. There’s surprisingly few people in the kitchen, since in her experience at high school bonfire parties, kitchens tend to be a congregating point; although, given how nice it is outside, most people are out back.

Connie turns to her, and she’s surprised to realize he looks nervous. He’s wearing a green t-shirt that has the outline of a horn and “The Music Man” written across it in elaborate script.

They stand there in awkward silence for a few long moments, and Sasha bobs her head to the music coming from the living room, moving her eyes back to stare at the shirt.

He takes a long sip of his beer and then realizes where she’s looking. “Oh, this?” he asks finally, breaking the silence. He clears his throat and gives a weak laugh. “Uh, it’s supposed to be ironic.” He cocks his head to the side, as if waiting to see if she buys it, and suddenly she can’t help but smile.

“Was it not a musical?” she asks politely, trying to annunciate every syllable carefully.

“Oh!” Connie laughs a little, “uh... yeah.” He looks back and forth conspiratorially, and then motions for her to come closer. She does as requested and leans in, waiting for him to explain. “Okay, so it’s totally not,” he confides in a low-pitched voice. “That other kid in our class—Jean?—told me to say that to girls because it sounds cool.”

He draws back abruptly, and looks mortified. “I mean, not that you’re a girl... like that,” he stammers. “I mean, you are, but you know, like a friend that’s a girl and...”

“Jean is loud,” Sasha remarks succinctly.

Connie just stares at her for a moment, and then starts laughing until he’s practically doubled over and almost spills his beer.

“Yeah, he is,” he finally agrees, grinning at Sasha. “I mean, that’s basically a summary for him.”

Jean is known to everyone as That Guy In Class Who Never Shuts Up, even if he answers incorrectly. In fact, he’s argued with Shadis before about so many minor points, that Shadis has once kicked him more than once. 

Sasha personally doesn’t mind, since it means she doesn’t have to answer any questions. She’s not afraid to answer, but she doesn’t like talking in front of big groups of people since she’s still trying to get her unfortunate accent under control.

“He’s part of this frat now, too,” Connie adds, startling Sasha out of her thoughts. “He’s not actually that bad one-on-one.”

“Hey, Springer!” comes a familiar voice.

“Speak of the devil,” Connie grumbles, rolling his eyes at Sasha as the subject of their conversation appears. “Here we go.”

“This your girlfriend?” Jean needles as he walks up, a beer in hand that’s obviously not his first, and slings an overly-friendly arm around Connie’s shoulders.

To Connie’s credit, he doesn’t blush at the awkward question and just looks at Jean calmly. “You know Sasha.”

“Oh, hey,” Jean replies, focusing on Sasha. “You’re the girl with the breakfast sandwich.”

Sasha rolls her sighs and sighs. “‘Twas once,” she replies in a manner she thinks is eloquent.

“What?”

“Once,” she repeats, her stomach dropping. For a minute, it seems like Jean is making fun of her, but he looks genuinely befuddled.

“It was once!” Connie pipes in, shrugging Jean’s arm off himself. “Once. Big deal.”

Jean snorts, but then he shrugs. “Well, hi, welcome, whatever. This is our humble abode.”

“You mean the humble abode that you’ve been at for exactly two months,” comes a good-natured voice that belongs to the boy who Sasha now knows is Marco Bodt. He strides up, an easy smile on his face. “Hi, Sasha. Nice to see you—thanks for coming.”

Jean’s mouth immediately snaps shut, and to Sasha’s surprise, he goes bright red before muttering, “Um, I just meant...”

“You are not a freshman?” Sasha asks Marco, her eyebrows raised. In her peripheral vision, she sees Connie raise an eyebrow as he darts his eyes down to her cup. She has no idea what to make of the look, though, so she waits for Marco’s answer.

“Nope,” Marco says, smiling as he moves to refill his cup, stepping around Jean who flinches out of the way as Marco brushes past him. “I put off fulfilling my core credits for too long. I’m a junior.”

“I see,” Sasha replies with a nod.

“Marco actually nominated us for the frat,” Connie says proudly, standing a little straighter and nodding as he looks over at Jean.

Jean just stares at him blankly, the blush still in full force on his cheeks, before he takes two very long sips of his beer. “Yeah,” he croaks. 

“C’mon, Jean,” Marco says in a friendly voice, “I’ll introduce you to some other people I think you’ll like.”

Jean’s eyes widen and he just shrugs, obviously trying to look indifferent, before Marco leads him away like a lost puppy.

“Pathetic,” Connie grunts, rolling his eyes and laughing a little. “I mean, I can’t blame the guy...”

“What do you mean?” Sasha replies, looking back and forth between Connie and Jean’s disappearing form into the crowd.

“He’s got it bad.”

“For who?” Sasha asks, immediately hoping it’s not her. Jean is okay, but he’s far too cocky and loud for her taste. She doesn’t actually know who her tastes veer toward, though, since she’s never had a boyfriend.

“Marco. It’s sad to watch,” Connie says, shaking his head and actually looking sympathetic. “He has no idea how obvious he is. Although I can’t read Marco, so who knows...” 

“Oh,” Sasha says, laughing a little as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “I see.”

“So,” Connie says, his face brightening as he changes the subject, “how about Shadis today? Oh my god, I thought I was gonna get kicked out when you drew that picture of him as a volcano!”

Sasha laughs as Connie regales her with descriptions of what other things he thinks Shadis looks like, as well as highlighting funnier moments they’ve shared.

“Did you know,” he asks, halfway through his second beer and looking more relaxed, “this is the first time we’ve really talked?”

Sasha hums from where she’s taking a sip of her beer, and then Connie waits for her to reply.

When she doesn’t, he looks a little crestfallen. “Uh, you know... it’s cool if you want to go hang out with other people. Just because I invited you, don’t feel like you have to stay with me the entire time.” He gives a weak laugh, and shrug.

“I do not possess the desire to speak with anyone else presently,” she blurts out, her eyes wide. 

She wants to know all about Connie—where’s from, why he’s so funny, what his major is, and what that shirt is all about. He’s the only friend she’s made so far who she’s actually wanted to spend more than an hour of class time with, and she feels like she’s about to lose the opportunity.

“Do you enjoy musical theatre?” she asks politely after a moment. She feels immediate relief as Connie looks up with a heartened expression, and he nods enthusiastically.

“Have you ever heard of The Music Man?” he asks excitedly, and then hesitates, seemingly awaiting Sasha’s verdict. When she just nods with a smile, though, waiting for him to continue, he launches into a half-hour description about how he played the starring role in his senior high school production.

After a while, though, the conversation wanes again. Sasha is bursting to tell him about her own high school drama club—how she’d been relegated to stage crew every year and then ended up loving it. She’s afraid too many words will give her away, though.

“I have also had the pleasure of experiencing musical theatre,” she says finally, breaking the silence. She’s careful to say every syllable clearly and select the proper words, even though it comes out slowly. 

When she notices Connie’s concerned expression, though, her face immediately starts to burn. He looks as if she just tried to communicate with a lot of flailing and hand gestures, and she realizes she’s living out Ymir’s verdict of her speech.

Just as she’s debating about whether to give up and show her true colors, or just leave altogether, Connie takes the cup out of her hand.

“Sash,” he says in a whisper, “I think you’re really drunk. Are you okay?”

Her eyes widen, but before she can answer, he starts to look panicked. “And your face is bright red. Do you feel hot?”

“Wait...” she starts, but then she finds herself being pulled away, up a staircase, and then into someone’s room.

“Here!” Connie says in a panicked voice as he shuts the door behind him. “Lie down for a sec. I’ll get you some water.”

And before she can explain, he points at the bed—undoubtedly his own—and disappears to retrieve what she can only assume is the promised water.

Sasha covers her face with hands and groans; instead of having a good time at her first college party and getting to know Connie better, he thinks she’s so wasted that she’s slurring her words.

Despite her embarrassment, though, she takes a moment to look around. The room is very small, and there’s another bed across the way that obviously belongs to someone else. Connie’s side of the room, though, is covered in posters and various bits and pieces of paper that are obviously mementos—a few goofy drawings undoubtedly drawn by friends, some old Polaroids that she assumes are high-school era, and his schedule which is tattered and tacked to the bulletin board next to the closet.

She blinks twice, though, and her eyes widen as she does a double take. As she gets up, the bed gives a loud squeak that makes her cringe, but she’s far too curious to back down now.

Sure enough, when she gets close enough to study the bulletin board in more detail, she recognizes a drawing of Keith Shadis with his trademark dark under-eye circles and a beard, only the top of his head exploding like a volcano.

It’s her drawing.

“Here, I got you some—” The door swings open, and Connie’s voice cuts off as he looks at Sasha, looking at his bulletin board.

“Sorry!” she exclaims in embarrassment, jumping back. “I just saw my drawing, and...”

“It’s okay,” he says immediately, his eyes still wide. “So, you’re okay?” He looks at her with that same worried expression, setting a red cup down on the bedside table that’s undoubtedly filled with water.

“Um...” she starts, biting her lip.

“It’s totally fine,” he says, nodding his head. “I’ll make sure no one bothers you, or I can walk you home if you feel well enough. Did you pre-game or something?”

“I’m not drunk!” she blurts out. “I was just tryin’ to make a good impression!”

Connie blinks and he just stares at her, obviously confused. “Wait, what?”

Sasha sighs, wrapping her arms around herself and scowling at the floor as she sits back down on the edge of the gratingly squeaky bed. “I dunno,” she murmurs defensively, “I just didn’t want anyone to think I’m a hick.”

“Why would anyone think that?” Connie asks in bewilderment, slowly sitting down next to her.

“No one here talks like me,” she replies, fighting back unexpected tears. Not until this moment had she realized how much the entire ordeal had been stressing her out. “I don’t wanna sound dumb.”

“Is that why you were talking all... slow, like that?” Connie asks, realization dawning on his face when Sasha finally finds the courage to meet his eyes. 

“Yeah,” she says, turning away and sniffling a little. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for you to think I’m drunk as a skunk.”

“Drunk as a skunk?”

“See?!” she cries, throwing her hands up and standing to look at Connie with an anguished expression. “I sound stupid!”

“No!” Connie exclaims, shaking his head vehemently. “I like that saying.”

“What?”

He gives her a hesitant little smile and then rubs the back of his head absentmindedly. “Uh, I like it? It’s cute.”

“Cute?” Sasha squeaks.

“Yeah,” he replies with a shrug. He hesitates as he goes to say something else, and Sasha waits expectantly. “You’re embarrassed about that, Sash?” he asks, shaking his head before giving a self-deprecating smile. “I just talked to you for half-an-hour about The Music Man.”

“But The Music Man is awesome!” Sasha replies, shaking her head. “My pa has all those records.” The truth is that Sasha grew up listening to musical soundtracks on an old-fashioned record player handed down from her grandfather. “I really like them,” she says more quietly, finally smiling a little. 

“But you’re okay?” Connie asks again, genuine worry in his voice. 

“Yeah,” Sasha laughs quietly, “I’m sorry for freakin’ you out.”

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed about anything,” Connie says, suddenly staring at the floor and shoving his hands in his pockets. “You’re the coolest person I’ve met here so far. I’m really glad you came tonight.”

“Really?” Sasha asks breathlessly, her eyes wide as she chews on her lip.

“Yeah,” Connie replies, still not making eye contact. “I’ve been wanting to ask you to hang out, but you’re so cool and pretty, I figured you had tons of stuff going on.”

The laugh Sasha gives is so loud that Connie looks up in surprise. “This is the first thing I did this semester!” she explains. “So thanks for invitin’ me.”

“You’re shitting me,” he deadpans.

“No!” she says, still laughing a little. She feels as though a weight’s been lifted off her shoulders. “And... I think you’re really cool, too,” she finishes shyly.

“Oh, also, you saw the drawing,” Connie groans, covering his face with one hand and pointing toward the bulletin board with the other, obviously mortified. “So embarrassing. I swear, I’m not a stalker or something.”

“No,” Sasha replies softly, fighting down the blush, “that’s really nice of you. I’m glad you thought it was funny.”

“Shadis as a volcano?” Connie immediately retorts, looking up. “That’s hilarious!”

Sasha starts to laugh, shaking her head, and finally she reaches out to pat Connie on the shoulder awkwardly. “Cool,” she concludes, “now that we got fixed up, you wanna go get a beer?”

Connie snorts, giving her a sheepish look. “Okay,” he agrees, and then points a reproving finger. “But this time, you have to tell me what your favorite song in Music Man is, and why.”

“I can do that,” she replies, grinning as Connie opens the bedroom door.

“Woohoo,” comes a smug voice. “You get down to business quick, Springer.”

“Marco’s room is _that_ way, Jean,” Connie retorts immediately, letting Sasha go in front of him as he jerks his thumb toward the other end of the hallway.

Sasha can’t help but laugh as Jean sputters and Connie just snorts, leaving him there struggling for a comeback—or a way to retain any dignity at this point—in the hallway.

“That was cruel,” Sasha says as they start down the stairs, her voice laced with amusement.

“But deserved,” Connie finishes as Sasha laughs in agreement.

“If I get drunk as a skunk,” Connie says as they walk back to the kitchen, “I’ll sing my favorite Music Man song.”

“If I get drunk as a _drunk_ ,” Sasha replies in kind, heading to the keg to get beers for both of them, “I’ll sing it with you.” 

“You’re cool, Sash. I’m glad you came.”

Sasha smiles at him as she hands over one of the red cups, standing a little taller. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this turned out a little longer than I thought... who's surprised? That would be no one, lol.
> 
> First Springles! Comments very welcome! <3


	3. Chapter 3

“Is this... a top hat?”

Sasha turns to Connie with wide eyes as she stretches on her tiptoes to retrieve the satiny hat from the top of the Connie and Jean’s shared closet.

“Would you believe me if I said it was Jean’s?” he replies, sporting an increasingly embarrassed expression.

“Not a chance,” she grins, grabbing the hat and placing it on her head. She does a little twirl followed by jazz hands, before closing the distance between them and jumping back into bed next to Connie. “Jean wouldn’t have something this cool,” she adds.

Connie groans slightly, but then laughs under his breath as Sasha snuggles up next to him on the bed, burying her legs in the blankets and wrapping an arm around his bare torso. 

It’s been a great year—she’s aced all her classes, stopped talking like she has marbles in her mouth, made some awesome friends, and gotten herself a pretty cool... boyfriend.

She frowns mildly to herself, biting her lip; she’s still not sure about the word “boyfriend” since it has lots of connotations she never understood. Although if her relationship with Connie is what it actually means, she’s more than okay with it.

“You look pretty good wearing that top hat and nothing else,” Connie says, raising his hand to stroke Sasha’s shoulder. It comes out as more of a squeak than a seductive purr, of course, but she doesn’t mind; every time Connie pays her a compliment, she feels giddy.

“Thanks,” she replies bashfully. “Um, I think you should put it on, though.” There are a few beats of silence, until she sits up fully and offers a big grin. “I bet this is from high school, isn’t it?” she asks excitedly, raising her eyebrows.

He blushes slightly and looks down, but he’s starting to laugh. “Sure is. I had a solo and everything.”

Sasha immediately sits up, bouncing on the bed excitedly. “Will you sing me a song?” she asks enthusiastically. 

Connie pulls himself up, too, grabbing a few pillows and propping them behind his back. He’s only wearing a pair of boxers, and Sasha feels a warmth settle over her as she remembers the night before.

“No way,” he retorts, crossing his arms over his chest and making a face. “I’m totally out of practice.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Sasha cries, bounding off the bed again, not wearing a stitch. It still surprises her how she can feel so at ease absolutely naked in Connie’s company and not have a single reservation. 

Their first time sleeping together at the end of the fall semester—when Connie had finally confessed the full extent of his feelings and asked her to hang out “in a romantic way like friends but with kissing maybe-if-you-want”—was the only time she’d felt nervous. But now, it’s not even something she thinks about.

In fact, being naked is pretty awesome.

“I sound like two tomcats screamin’ over food,” she ventures, raising an eyebrow at Connie even as she strikes a pose wearing the top hat.

“I bet that’s not true,” Connie replies, grinning at her outright now. His eyes flick down and then back up, and he immediately he flushes.

Sasha snorts and rolls her eyes. “Okay,” she replies with a solemn nod, “you be the judge.”

She looks behind her to make sure the door is locked—the small lock on the doorknob appears to be turned into the correct position—and she puts both hands on her hips and hums out a scale. 

Connie’s eyes immediately widen.

She tries again, clearing her throat, now determined to soldier on since Connie’s refused her request to don the top hat and perform.

 _“Goodnight, my someone,”_ she croaks, trying to find the pitch and failing miserably, _“goodnight, my love...”_ She’s fully aware that she sounds like a steam pipe warming up, replete with creaks, groans, and high whines, but she’s determined to get Connie to take pity on her and wear the top hat.

Mostly because he’d look really hot in it. And adorable.

 _“Sleep tight, my someone,”_ she continues, trying to push her voice up to hit the note (any of them), before pointing at Connie and cheekily tipping the top hat at him, _“Sleep tight, my love...”_

She’s pointedly ignoring the fact that every time she sings the word “love,” her heart skips a beat.

Connie looks downright mortified now, but Sasha no longer feels embarrassed about anything around him—not her accent, and certainly not her horrific screeching-cat singing voice. Her family had sat through enough painful, enthusiastic renditions of ballads sung along to her pa’s records for her to be fully aware of how she can’t carry a tune. 

_“Our star is shining—”_

“Okay!” Connie cries in horror. “You win! I’ll wear the hat!”

“Now, you have to finish the song,” Sasha immediately retorts, grinning at him devilishly. “You have to serenade me.”

Connie groans and covers his face with both hands in mortification, but nonetheless, gets to his feet to accept the top hat from Sasha.

Instead of letting her go, though, he wraps both hands around her waist and kisses her on the mouth, catching her pleasantly off guard. It’s feels as though she’s been swept off her feet, and then realizes that Connie’s taken the top hat and is now wearing it as he holds onto her.

 _“Sweet dreams be yours, dear,”_ he sings, his voice dropping to a lower octave in an on-key, pleasant timbre, _“If dreams there be.”_

“Wow!” she exclaims, her eyes widening. “You can really sing!” She shifts to wrap both arms around his neck and pulls him into a hug, sighing happily.

He pulls away slightly to give a broad smile and a cocky nod. “There’s a reason I starred in the senior production.”

To Sasha’s surprise, he pulls her close again, and she smiles a little as she rests her face in the crook of his neck.

 _“Now goodnight, my someone, goodnight,”_ he sings softly, swaying a little in a move that reminds Sasha simultaneously of a middle school dance and a movie. _“True love can be whispered from heart to heart...”_

Sasha immediately feels her face heat, but she closes her eyes and refrains from saying anything. Instead, she just tightens her grip.

The fact of the matter is that summer is just around the corner, and there’s only a few weeks left of the semester. She doesn’t know what Connie’s doing during the lengthy break, but the thought of being apart from the person who’s become her best friend inspires a sadness that stretches so deep, it’s almost startling.

 _“When lovers are parted they say,”_ she sings softly, surprising Connie as he starts, _“but I must depend on a wish and a star.”_

They just hold each other for a moment, and then Connie draws away. He gives her a serious look, before tweaking the top hat and bowing before her with a flourish.

“Will you come visit me this summer?” she blurts out abruptly.

She immediately feels embarrassed by the surprised look on Connie’s face, and bites her lip, dropping her eyes to the floor. Maybe he doesn’t feel as strongly as she does.

“Hey!” comes a voice suddenly, and they both spin in horror as the door starts to open.

It seems to happen in slow motion as Connie pushes Sasha back toward the bed and throws a t-shirt toward her just as Jean sticks his head around the corner.

“Springer, did you take my—” The sound Jean makes as he fully takes in what’s happening completely—top hat, Connie in his underwear, and Sasha cowering awkwardly in his bed—reminds Sasha of the time one of the barn cat’s kittens wandered away and then cried desperately because it was lost.

“Are you fucking— What—?” he demands, his voice cracking as he just stares, as if unable to move.

“We’re busy!” Sasha squeaks, pointing at Jean vehemently. “Get your own top hat!”

Jean makes a hurking sound as he slams the door shut, and the pounding of his feet as he no doubt retreats down the hall in a panic can be heard through the wall.

“Oh my god,” Connie says, turning to Sasha with wide eyes. “That was...”

They just stare at each other, and then slowly, Connie starts to laugh. “That was great!” he exclaims, pointing at Sasha. “We finally scared him! He’ll never come in here without knocking again.”

Sasha starts to laugh, too, and not a shred of embarrassment remains as Connie launches himself at the bed and curls around her.

“He can’t have our top hat,” he murmurs into her ear, kissing her there. She’s immediately distracted as she sighs and arches her back, her fingers fumbling to find his hip. “And yeah... um...”

He pulls away, making the characteristic gesture of rubbing the back of his head. “Can I really visit you?” He bites his lip, looking nervous. “In the summer? Would that be okay?”

She just stares at him for a second, before pulling him into a kiss and then murmuring against his lips. “Yeah, but my pa might ask you sing some songs. I might have told him you like musicals.”

He’s too busy kissing her back to notice the request, and he just makes an absentminded sound of confirmation in his throat as he pulls her down.

The top hat falls to the ground as Sasha pulls the quilt up over them, no longer feeling the need to lock the door. 

It remains there for some time amidst giggles and moaning, and then a euphoric brand of quietude. Finally, after a few minutes of post-orgasmic bliss, Connie murmurs, “Breakfast?”

Sasha hums dazedly as she rides out the aftershocks of her orgasm, and nods lazily.

“Most important meal of the day,” Connie adds, kissing the top her head. 

For one of the first times in her life, though, she decides to shun food for company. They lie there together for a long time until she’s half-asleep, but she still hears Connie whisper, “Goodnight, my someone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes our first adventure into Springles! Thank you, Sizzleshorts, for giving me this lovely commission. I learned so much about Connie and Sasha while writing this, and it's only increased my love for Springles. <3
> 
> On that note, being that it's me, I originally threw in that very brief JM moment in chapter two because I thought it was a cute background pairing that I know my commissioner ships. ;)
> 
> Well. Ahem. That spawned 30k+ words of a side piece set in the same universe for the saga of Jean and Marco in college, and Jean's awkward crush. Stay tuned! It's almost finished, but I'm still putting the finishing touches on it.


End file.
